


Ten Minutes Till Self Destruction

by alienslovetea



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kinda, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Violence, but the voltron fam is there for him, get ready for a long ride folks!!, its gets pretty bloody, space odyssey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 06:17:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13607343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienslovetea/pseuds/alienslovetea
Summary: Not every mission can end with hugs and kisses. Sometimes they land you in situations you never thought you would get into with people you never thought you would know. Lance isn't exactly happy with the situation





	Ten Minutes Till Self Destruction

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! so i finally decided to post one of my works on here and wow is this one going to be pretty angsty. The chapters will be longer! this is just an introduction ;)

It hurt to breathe, every intake sent him spiraling into almost endless pain. He could feel the blood pooling beneath him, falling sluggishly out of his wound, drip drip drip. 

He could barely think in this moment, could only stare at the dark ceiling above him and have just one thought: is this the end? Is this how he dies? Alone on some abandoned ship with no one but himself? Did all his actions, all his pain and triumph, his entire life simply lead up to this? A lowly death from a stab wound because he couldn’t keep up. 

He curled his hands into fists, that can’t just be it. He won’t let it. 

Despite the pain that coursed through him, he slowly lifted his hands to sword that was stuck in his stomach, wincing at the touch already causing pain. He had to do it, leaving it in and waiting for help was no longer an option. 

Hoping to spare himself from at least a little bit of the pain he squeezed his eyes closed and pulled the sword out as carefully as he could. The pain was almost unbearable, weak whimpers escaping his lips no matter how hard he tried to silence them. 

But he had to push through, he had to pull the sword out all the way and when he finally did it, the sword tumbled out of his fingertips and a whole new world of pain washed over him. It was blindingly, searingly hot, a scream ripping through him as he gripped the floor for some kind of hold against this pain. He didn’t want to get up, hell he didn’t even want to move. Who knows what kind of pain would come from that. 

But he had to. 

This pain was strong, but not stronger than his will to survive. So he pulled himself together the best he could and slowly began to sit up, bloodied fingers gripping the harsh ground beneath him. Heavy pants were the only sound in the room as he began to move towards the wall and brought himself up to stand. The world swirled around him, blackness beginning to eat away the edges of his vision. He continued, however, leaning against the wall for leverage as he dragged himself out of the room, leaving a bloody smear across the wall. 

His stomach twisted at the thought of how much blood he probably lost and was still losing, and brought a hand up to cover the wound. Through pure will alone he refused to look at the wound for now, knowing that he would only throw up if he saw the mess that his stomach most likely was. 

He didn’t know how far he managed to get before he needed to rest, but he knew it wasn’t too far. His entire body was shaking with effort and his eyes hurt to keep open. All he wanted to do was sink to the floor and sleep, to leave this reality if only for a little bit. He couldn’t though. He would surely die if he did. 

Death was a topic he tried not to think about. 

Breathing in a shuddering breath, he forged on, trusting his instincts to not lead him astray. He needed to get out, somehow. He needed to leave. 

Who knew what monsters could lurk in the dark right now and with the state he was in currently, he might as well be served on a silver platter to them. He squeezed his shut, he had to focus on what was happening now. He couldn’t afford to lose focus. 

He was starting to slide further down the wall with how heavily he was leaning on it, forcing him to drag his body upwards once again. How much time had passed? Minutes, second, hours? He felt like he was walking in circles, every wall the same shade and every turn leading to the same hallway. Everything felt like it was getting blurrier, washed out by the roaring in his ears and the shake of his and …. and……….an..d ………………………..

Would death truly be as terrible as everyone made it out to be? What if ( his hands are shaking )… couldn’t he just ( his head is pounding )… maybe he (everythinghurtseverythinghurts)……….. is death…….. (hecan’tdothishecan’tdothisHECAN’TDOTHIS)……..really that bad?

 

 

He forged on. 

 

He really didn’t like thinking about death.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed this!   
> leave a comment of any thoughts or ideas for future chapters!


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